Under the Influence
by FrameofMind
Summary: An eclectic new oneshot and short-short collection. Can you guess what the theme is...? Rated M to cover all the bases...
1. Pyrrhic Victory

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inuyasha. Don't own much of anything else, either, so don't bother suing (--grin--). Oh, and just so we're clear, this applies to all of the stories in this collection…

**Author's Note:** Well, in honor of my twenty-first birthday (which is today—happy birthday to me!!), I've decided to launch a oneshot/short-short collection centering around the theme of alcohol (--grin--). The fics will be a mish-mash of varying lengths, types, and genres. Some will be funny, some romantic, some serious, you name it—pretty much whatever comes to mind. I'm posting what I've got written so far today, but I've got a few more ideas and half-written bits that will be added to the collection as they're finished. Anyway, enjoy!

**Pyrrhic Victory**

He watched the man across the table intently, determined not to blink for anything in the world—but his brother's face was as impassive and unflinching as ever. Damn that rat bastard. His fingers were just itching to reach over there and wring his scrawny neck, just for the pure joy of seeing his eyes bug out in surprise, for once.

The seconds passed. Minutes. Hours.

Well, maybe not quite hours—but they sorta felt like hours. His brain was starting to get fuzzy, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, but his determination overrode the petty complaints of his body. He wouldn't lose.

When his The Great Sesshoumaru's holier-than-thou eyelids finally swept closed ever so briefly, his expression still unchanged, Inuyasha felt the rush of victory surge through his veins. "Ha! That counts!" he pounced gleefully, pointing an accusing clawed.

"Hn." But the other man lifted the next small glass to his lips calmly and downed the amber liquid in a single, graceful swallow.

When Sesshoumaru's gaze met Inuyasha's once more it was as cold and inscrutable as ever—the game was on again, and the hanyou was ready. He could do this all night. Sure, he was behind by three, but that didn't matter—he could take whatever this prick could throw at him. Fuck him.

Then, only a few moments into the latest round, without so much as a twitch or a change of expression, the proud and stately taiyoukai slumped forward, his forehead whacking the tabletop with a sound thump.

"Yes!" Inuyasha crowed, leaping to his feet and breaking into a rather unsteady impersonation of a victory dance. He only made it about three steps, however, before he too crumpled to the ground in a boneless heap, out cold.

When Rin and Kagome walked in an hour later to find them in these positions, they exchanged a weary glance. Kagome shrugged to her sister in law and sighed, "Well, at least they gave up the sword thing…"

* * *

**A/N:** Took me forever to come up with a punchline for the end of this one… (--grin--)


	2. Drowning

**Author's Note: **Hm…I have nothing to say…crazy… (--grin--)

**Drowning**

It was over.

He took another deep pull from the jug in his hand, feeling the liquid burn its way down his throat and welcoming the sensation. Leaning back against the rough outer wall of the hut, he stretched his legs out in front of him and blinked lazily in the direction of the twilit forest some yards away.

He wouldn't go after her. He'd promised himself he wouldn't—he'd promised her. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but somehow he couldn't seem to recall any of the oh-so-important reasons why they had come to this conclusion. All he could think about was the way her scent still lingered around this place, and how it made him wish that it would just disappear and stay forever at the same time. He had to forget her—but he didn't want to. How do you forget a lost limb? How do you forget the only truly good thing you've ever had? How do you forget happiness? When all you've got in front of you is misery, the memory of happiness is only a taunt—but it was also the only thing he had left.

The drink had dulled his senses significantly, so at least he couldn't smell her quite as clearly anymore, and the pain seemed to have become somewhat less acute—like a dull ache all over, instead of a sharp spike right through the center of his chest. That was an improvement—but it also seemed to be dragging his thoughts down further and further into the dark abyss she'd left behind, where once he had possessed a heart.

See, there he went again…that "dark" thing could really sneak up on him sometimes…

Ah well—it was still better than the stabbing. He'd just keep drinking until the darkness got worse than the stabbing, and then he'd sober up and languish in harsh reality for awhile.

So this was what he had to look forward to? Vacillating between the lesser of two evils for the rest of his life? Sounded a lot like something he had done while she'd been there, except that had been the better of two goods…

Gods, he missed her…

His body was so numb and detached from his mind that he barely even registered that the side of his face was now pressed against the wooden boards that made up the floor of the porch. It was a marvelous thing, gravity. One minute it was there, the next—pfft. Gone. He couldn't even tell which way was up anymore. Not that he really cared.

His eyelids swept closed, and then open again, apparently of their own accord. There was a shape somewhere out there, like a tree, but shorter and moving. That was funny—when had the trees learned to walk? Kagome must have taught them. She was nice like that. He pulled the jug toward his face and whacked himself in the nose with it. Since the floorboards were in the way of getting it all the way to his mouth, he settled for dribbling a little of the liquid out of the opening of the jug and lapping it up as it passed.

When he moved the jug aside again, he noticed that the tree was getting closer—and it had grown legs. And it only seemed to have leaves around the middle.

His eyes were closed again, but they weren't opening this time. That was funny. Who'd designed these things anyway? Must be broken. Can't see anything with your eyes shut. Idiots.

He felt a gentle, warm object stroke his cheek—and then there was a voice, drifting in through the haze. "Inuyasha…"

He scrunched up his face—his nose itched. But the warmth against his face felt nice. "Mph…"

There was breath, and a heartbeat, and a scent, something that was as warm and welcome as the softness resting on his cheek. "Inuyasha, it's Kagome…"

"K'gome...K'gome's gone…" he mumbled. His tongue was really weird—it was all huge and lumpy, and it stuck to the inside of his mouth. Why hadn't he ever noticed that before? Crazy…

"She came back," the voice told him, and for some reason it made him think of a smile.

He liked that smile. It matched the scent. It was still dark in here with his eyes closed like this, but somehow it didn't seem as dark anymore with that scent to keep him company. "Good…"

* * *

**A/N:** I like this one… (--grin--)


	3. Surfacing

**Author's Note: **Alright, I wasn't planning to do this, but this piece is sort of a sequel to the previous piece, "Drowning." As a rule I don't "sequel" anything unless I come up with a good solid idea that just _has_ to be written—which rarely ever actually happens, but in this case it did. If you like it, you can thank BlackMamba07 for talking me into it. If you don't like it and you think it totally ruins the previous piece, you can blame BlackMamba07 for talking me into it… (--grin--)

**Surfacing**

He felt like he was swimming in a vat of molasses; though it smelled and tasted a lot more like stale sake…

Her scent was still so strong—in fact, if he hadn't known better, he would've sworn it was even stronger now than it had been the night before. But that was impossible—it was just his mind playing tricks on him. After all, next to hers, all other scents were colorless and anemic. Even the persistent stench of cheap booze couldn't cover the olfactory imprint she'd left behind.

Something about it seemed to remind him of a dream he had had. It had been a good dream, he was sure of it—but he couldn't recall any of the details. If he could just go back to sleep, maybe he could slide right back into it and find out how it ended—a pleasant dream was preferable to a suck-ass reality any day. But he'd already been awake too long—he'd passed the point of no return. It was too late to get it back, whatever it had been.

With a mild grunt of frustration, he rolled over to face the wall, scrunching his cheek into the pillow and trying in vain to will himself back into unconsciousness anyway—but the scent wouldn't leave him alone. A frown creased his brow; there was something niggling at the edge of his brain, trying to fight its way through the lingering sluggishness from the previous night's binge, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Ah—the pillow! It smelled like her. More than that, it was a _pillow_—one of those big, fluffy ones from Kagome's time, not like the ones they had here.

He blinked blurrily, wincing as his eyelids stuck to his dry, itchy corneas, his thoughts panting slightly to keep up with the mounting flood of sensory data he was receiving. It took him a moment or two to realize what he was looking at.

_Kagome_…

He stared, dumbstruck, his mouth forming the word soundlessly. It couldn't be. He must still be asleep, wandering in a drunken stupor. Or maybe he was dead—maybe this was the afterlife. Though that would suck, because it would mean Kagome was dead too—so he nixed that possibility. A dream sounded much more promising. And yet, the longer he stared, the more details came into focus: Her delicate, nervous fingers toying with the hem of her skirt; her soft, full mouth worrying her lower lip between her teeth; her gentle, brown eyes watching him intently for a reaction. The silence stretched on, and he could do nothing more than continue to stare. He was afraid that if he moved, she'd disappear.

"Hi," she said finally, her voice meek and slightly sheepish. "Look…I know I said—"

That was as far as she got. The sound of her voice had somehow restored motor control to his limbs, and within seconds he had crossed the couple of feet between them and captured her lips in an impassioned kiss. Her mouth was warm and soft, her breath sweet and shallow, the narrow shoulders he clutched in his hands solid and familiar. She was here—she was really here. It hadn't been a dream after all.

She'd come back.

As soon as her surprise had worn off, she began to kiss him back with equal fervor, much to his delight. His head felt like some idiot swordsmith had mistaken it for an anvil, and his limbs were weak and rubbery, still wringing themselves dry from the night before, but at that moment he was absolutely positive that he'd never felt better in his entire life. And the best part?

It was just beginning…

* * *

**A/N:** The first one is probably still better (and can probably stand on its own better than this one can)—but sometimes what you really need is a good old-fashioned resolution (--grin--). Okay, back to real work now…


	4. A Very Dull Evening

**Author's Note: **This idea came to me this evening, and because I'm an idiot, I spent two hours I should really have spent sleeping writing it down. Hopefully it's worth the cost, especially since I'm not going to bother to edit it just now. Maybe I'll get around to that later… (--grin--)

Btw, I got the game used in this fic from an episode of "Frasier"—only they did it without the alcohol. Way more fun my way, I'm sure…

**A Very Dull Evening**

Well, there was an obvious one to lead off with, so he said it: "I'm the dullest person 'cause I've never fucked anybody."

The women's heads swung immediately to face the monk sitting across from him, and Inuyasha merely smirked blandly at his friend's wry glare, passing him the sake jug. He was pleased—though not particularly surprised—to see that Kagome simply passed it along to the monk without taking a swig herself. Of course he knew she hadn't either—probably—but then, well, it was nice to know…probably…

Miroku took a deep draught from the jug and set it at his knee with a flourish. "Your turn, Sango."

"Alright…um…I'm the dullest person because…" a sly smile slid across her face, and she glanced at Miroku all of a sudden, "…I've never asked a woman to bare my child."

Miroku rolled his eyes and hefted the jug once more, saying, "Ah, well then you've deprived yourself of quite a pleasure."

She retaliated for the smart remark by whacking him across the back of the head just as he was swallowing, sending him into a coughing fit. Inuyasha snorted—served the lech right.

Once he had recovered his composure, Miroku made his own contribution. "I'm the dullest person because I have never been to Kagome's world."

Kagome winced at the bitter flavor of the sake and passed the jug along to Inuyasha, who downed a mouthful easily. Now it was her turn—he knew she was sure to get all of them in one swipe. There were tons of things they'd done that she hadn't done just because of the time difference. But her statement shocked him nonetheless.

"I've never been kissed."

There was a brief, stunned silence, during which Inuyasha's only thought was _How the hell has she managed that?_—and then Miroku and Sango both fixed him with mildly sharp gazes. "What?" he mumbled weakly—then took his swig of the sake to cover the lameness of that protest, and passed the jug to Sango so that she could give it to Miroku. All attention was removed from Inuyasha, however, when Sango took a quick sip of the sake herself.

Miroku stared at her bemusedly as he accepted the jug. "Who have _you_ kissed?"

She lowered her eyes, a sheepish blush spreading across her cheeks. "You were unconscious…"

Catching him in mid-swallow for the second time, this remark sent Miroku off on another coughing fit. "When…" he rasped, still clearing the last of the sake from his esophagus, "when was this…?"

"A few weeks ago—after that battle, remember, where you sucked up all the shouki."

"Damn…and I don't even remember it—that doesn't seem fair, does it?" he pointed out. "I think you owe me another one—while I'm conscious, this time."

"What? No!" Sango replied, straightening, her blush deepening.

"Come on, why not? You're among friends…"

"Exactly!"

His lips curved into that snake oil smile of his—Inuyasha could never understand why any woman would fall for it. But then he couldn't understand why women needed to bathe so much or eat so slowly either, so then that was nothing new. "Sango…" the monk purred.

The woman in question narrowed her eyes at him and muttered reluctantly, "Later. Now shut up already."

As time passed and the jug got lighter and lighter, the statements got punchier and less coherent, until finally they were just sitting around telling pointless (though apparently hilarious) stories about hammers and fenceposts and large piles of hay as they passed around the booze. At some point Miroku and Sango disappeared off into the trees, presumably so that Sango could make good on her promise, leaving Inuyasha and Kagome sprawled out on the grass and laughing idiotically up at the starry sky.

"…and it was just, like, sitting there—this huge black elephant," Kagome babbled in his ear as he watched the stars slide magically in and out of focus, "and I was like, 'Dude, I need to get up the stairs! Get the fuck out of my way!'"

Inuyasha howled with laughter, the word "fuck" in Kagome's normally dainty soprano twanging against his eardrum. She descended into a rolling, high-pitched giggle as well, flopping over towards him onto her side with the force of her uncontrollable laughter. He glanced over at her as the chuckles seizing his abdominal muscles gradually subsided, and tried to focus on her pert, pretty, scrunched-up nose, and the smooth, soft lips stretched wide in a smile beneath it. Never been kissed. Never—not once. Nobody.

Not yet.

He felt the Earth's center of gravity rotating around him for a moment before he realized that it was actually he who was moving—but by then he was already there, leaning over her, still trying to focus on those lips, although they were a lot closer than they had been a moment ago. She still laughed a little, a fractured giggle contracting her supple frame every few moments. He ducked his head to see what would happen if he blocked their escape route—but she turned her head a little at the last second, and they bonked noses instead.

"Ow…" she mumbled, her nose scrunching prettily once more as her hand came up to rub at it. Then she giggled again.

That was worth a second try. He got a lot closer this time, though his aim was still off, and it took a little fumbling around to figure out where her lips were. Once he found them, he caught the lower one between his teeth, to make sure they wouldn't run away again—but then she ran her tongue along the edge of his upper lip, and his tongue couldn't resist the temptation to go meet it.

He hadn't even noticed that his hands were wandering as well—sneaky little buggers—until his palm settled over something round and soft and exactly the right size for him to hold. And it made her purr against his tongue when he squeezed it. He liked this thing—he would have to spend more time investigating it one of these days.

Not right now though. He was way too tired—it would have to wait until morning. Maybe it would make a good pillow—yeah, that was nice…

He snuggled up against her softness, wrapping his arms around her waist, and letting the gentle, rhythmic pulsing that filled his ears lull him to sleep.

When he awoke, he noticed three things: 1) The sun was way too bright, 2) Whatever was pressed against his cheek was really soft, and 3) There were two rounded, cloth-covered objects taking up most of his field of vision.

When the implications of realizations two and three suddenly hit him, along with fuzzy memories of an extremely sloppy kiss, his entire body froze.

Now, how to extract himself from this situation?

Before he had time to go any further than that one thought, Kagome's deep, even breaths ceased momentarily, before continuing at a somewhat hastened pace—too late now…

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out, untangling himself from around her and scooting back a couple of feet, ears lowered in preparation for a "sit." When it didn't come, he peered cautiously over at her from beneath his bangs, only to find her sitting there watching him with an odd expression, as though she were slightly at a loss.

"It's…it's okay…" she murmured, glancing away and rubbing a hand over her eyes. "No big deal, I guess."

He frowned slightly, confused by her reaction. He had expected her to be angry, but for some reason she seemed almost…disappointed. "Kagome…?"

"Hm?" she replied, still not looking at him, and still with that oddly blank expression.

"Are you okay?"

Now she looked at him—and he found that he preferred it when she didn't. That blankness was even more unnerving when faced head-on. "I'm fine—I told you, it's no big deal. You don't have to worry about it."

This still didn't satisfy him, so he inched a bit closer, hoping the sheer proximity would help him figure out what was wrong. "I don't get it…"

"What?"

"Aren't you mad?"

"No. Why should I be? It's not like it's a surprise. You were drunk, that's all."

Now he was a little affronted. "Not a surprise? What, you think I make a habit of getting drunk and molesting women? I'm not the bouzu, you know!"

"No, I didn't mean that," she amended quickly, wincing before lowering her voice to finish the thought. "I just meant it's not like I really expected it to…mean anything."

The words rolled over him, and he tried to absorb their meaning, though it was difficult. He thought he understood, but somehow he was sure he must be wrong. "Did it…mean something to you?"

She looked him in the eye—and then she looked away.

He wasn't sure, but something told him that was a yes.

There was probably a right thing to say at a moment like this, but Inuyasha wasn't good with words at the best of times, much less with a hangover that could kill a small child, so he decided to test his hypothesis hands on. Or rather, lips on.

She flinched, stunned at first, but he kept going, more afraid of having to pull back and actually see her staring at him in horror and confusion than of just shutting his eyes and boldly going where no man but he had gone before. Much to his relief, she soon began to kiss him back, slowly at first, as if she wasn't quite sure it was actually happening, and then more firmly, more confidently, more enthusiastically. All in all, the experiment was a success.

Well, he mused a couple of hours later as she dozed against his chest—the next time they played that dumb game, he'd have to come up with a new opener…

* * *

**A/N:** We're not counting the second movie here, just FYI…

**EDIT** (6/30/08): Finally got around to proofing this. No major changes, just a few minor typos and things. (For clarity's sake, it was first posted on 4/20/08.)


	5. One Dog Night

**Author's Note: **This intoxicating little piece (--grin--) was first posted to LJ's iyficcontest community on June 23, 2008, where it won first place for Week 148: Sunrise Theme. Word Count: 3678

Enjoy!

**One Dog Night**

The house was dark when he arrived, much to his chagrin. Undeterred, he leapt nimbly up to the roof below Kagome's window, which he knew would be unlocked—it always was, these days. Sure enough, the glass panel slid back easily, and he dropped effortlessly onto the soft carpet, closing it behind him and flipping on the light. He had almost hoped he would find her simply asleep, even though it was still a bit earlier than she usually went to bed, but no such luck—the room was empty. A twitch of his ears confirmed that the rest of the house was empty as well.

Damn wench. She'd promised to come back that night—where was she, anyway? He was half tempted to take to the streets and go looking for her, but it was much too late for her to be at school, and aside from that he wouldn't even know where to start. Besides, if she found out he'd gone traipsing around town without a hat to cover his ears, she'd sit him through the floor—and he wasn't in the mood for a broken nose tonight. So that left him with one choice: He'd just have to wait.

Heaving an exasperated sigh that no one was around to hear, he plopped down on her bed and leaned back against the wall, Tetsusaiga propped against his shoulder. Well, maybe it wasn't so bad—at least it was more comfortable waiting here than sitting out in the chilly darkness back on his side of the well. Not that he was so weak as to mind the cold—he just preferred the warmth. Besides, everything here smelled of Kagome—which, he had to admit, was rather nice.

The minutes ticked by, and eventually Inuyasha slid sideways to curl up with his head on her pillow. He must have dozed off at some point, because when a sharp noise from the floor below made his eyes snap open, the clock sitting on Kagome's bedside table read 2:35 am. Shuffling noises from downstairs drew his attention again, and then something that sounded like laughter—a woman's giggle, but it sounded odd somehow. Was that Kagome? It didn't sound like Kagome…

He rolled to his feet and stepped out into the hallway, making his way down the stairs quietly, hoping to get a glimpse of whoever it was before she realized he was there. As the entryway came into view, he discovered a young woman sitting on her butt on the floor, and laughing helplessly as she tried to shove a large black shoe with a pointy stick coming out of the heel into a very small, shiny black bag. Her clothes were like none he had ever seen Kagome wear. The pants were dark blue, low slung, and hugged her hips very tightly, and her black top was shiny like the purse, held up by two thin straps, and had ridden up her torso so that her midriff was showing. Her hair was pulled up into a long tail high on her head, and swayed wildly with her clumsy movements. A board creaked beneath his foot, and the woman's head swung around in his direction.

It was Kagome.

Her eyebrows rose with comical exaggeration, and then her face split into a wide grin. "Inuyasha! What're you doing here?" She tried to push herself to her feet, the weight of the bag still hanging from her wrist throwing her off balance and causing her to land once more on her backside with another insane giggle.

"Kagome?" he murmured with a frown, hardly believing his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong with me. I'm totally fine. How are you?"

"Fine…" he said warily, taking a couple of steps closer and sniffing at her discreetly. Had she been drugged? Had somebody kidnapped her and put her in those odd clothes? Was she sick? His eyes widened as he took a good sniff—alcohol. She reeked of the stuff. "You're drunk!" he said, half angry, half disbelieving.

"Nuh-uh!" she protested, scrambling to her feet at last only to stagger forward and grab onto his arm to avoid hitting the floor again.

"Yes you are!" he replied, hauling her back to her feet and gasping her shoulders to steady her.

She blinked up at him for a moment, still scowling, though her eyes slid in and out of focus—and then she giggled again. "Shh!" she whispered loudly, "it's a secret…"

He gave her a sideways look, and she giggled again, shrugging his hands away and tottering off down the hall towards the kitchen. He marched after her. "Kagome…"

"Ooh! Brownies!" she exclaimed excitedly, diving toward a tinfoil-covered pan on the kitchen counter and managing to catch herself just before she overbalanced. She tore off the tinfoil and grabbed a hunk of chocolate dessert, sagging against the counter as she munched away at it.

"Kagome, what happened? Why are you like this? Who did this to you?"

"My friends," she answered offhandedly, turning back to face him.

"Friends? Which friends?" he asked immediately.

"Oh, you know, Yuki and Ayura and Emi—they said I needed to get laid, but I told them they were crazy, so they took me out to a club instead."

Inuyasha hadn't understood most of that sentence, but whatever she was talking about, he was sure he didn't like it. "Look, Kagome, don't worry—whatever they did to you, I'll make sure they never get near you again, and—what the hell are you doing?"

"It's hot in here, don't you think?" she asked, frowning exaggeratedly as she gripped the hem of her tight-fitting top and tried to pull it up over her head.

"Cut it out!" he ordered, panic-stricken, diving forward and pulling her shirt back down, a slight blush warming his cheeks.

"See, you're hot too," she said, pointing out the redness in his face, "I told you, it's hot in here. We should get some ice cream—or an ice cream cake! I had one of those for my birthday once—it had The Little Mermaid on it—and Sebastian! I love Sebastian. Don't you love Sebastian?"

"Uh, yeah," he agreed, completely lost. "Look, Kagome—" but he stopped short, his brow lowering into a frown as his nose detected something he hadn't noticed before. Heart pounding in his ears, he ducked his head and began sniffing every inch of her. There was no mistaking it—it was all over her: the scent of men. Not just one or two, but dozens—and they were everywhere, her waist, her hips, her thighs, her butt, her neck, even her breasts. Places _he_ had never dared touch her, and these bastards had had their sweaty, stinking hands all over them—and she had _let_ them. How could she?

She giggled again, flopping down over his shoulder as he sniffed at her waistline. "That tickles!"

He gritted his teeth, her drunken giggles grating against his nerves, and the feeling of her breasts pressed against his back raising his hackles even further. It wouldn't do any good to yell at her now—she was too far gone. He needed to get her sobered up first—then he could ask her what the hell she'd thought she was doing going anywhere with those no-good friends of hers, and letting all those fucking assholes touch her.

He hooked an arm around her knees and straightened up, ignoring her surprised "whoop," and the way her arms wrapped around his waist reflexively as she laughed into his spine. Marching up the stairs, he returned to her room, unhooking her fingers from the front of his haori and flopping her perhaps a bit more roughly than necessary onto her back on the bed.

"Whoa…" she said, laughing again. "That was awesome. Can I go again?"

"No," he replied stonily, crossing his arms to glare down at her.

She tilted her head and frowned prettily back up at him. "You're such a grouch."

"Feh."

She heaved a sigh and rolled over to her side, snuggling down into her pillow and letting her eyelids fall closed. "Well fine—if you're gonna be that way, you can just go home. Who needs you?"

His glare hardened—but of course that did no good, since her eyes were closed.

But then her eyes flew open, and she looked at him in sudden realization. "Oh…"

Yes. This was it—she'd realized her terrible mistake, and she was going to apologize to him for letting all those men grope her. And maybe, if she was contrite enough, he would consider accepting it.

"Ooooh…"

Hm—he wasn't sure what that one meant. It was either pleasure or pain, but he couldn't determine any reason for her to be experiencing either at the moment.

Then, without warning, she stumbled to her feet and ran unsteadily from the room, apparently desperate to get somewhere. Completely bewildered, he followed her—and arrived in the doorway to the bathroom just in time to catch her emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Ick…

Well, he'd seen worse, but still…ick…

He was still angry about the "other men" thing, but the sight of her sitting on the floor heaving her guts out brought out enough worry and sympathy to override that for the time being. Shrugging out of his haori so that the trailing sleeves wouldn't get in the way, rolling up the sleeves of his undershirt, and grabbing a damp washcloth and a towel from next to the sink, he perched himself on the lip of the bathtub behind her and held back her ponytail as she finished her business. When at last she sat back, groaning vaguely, he offered her the rag and towel to clean herself up. She did so, and then set them both aside and leaned back even further to rest her head on his inner thigh. The unabashed forwardness of the gesture surprised him, and it made him swallow nervously—but then, she probably didn't know what she was doing anyway. For a moment he was at a loss for what to do—but finally he settled for brushing a lose, sweaty tendril of hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear, and then stroking her scalp gently with the tips of his claws while she dozed.

About ten minutes later she gave an encore performance, and again he waited patiently for her to finish, keeping a comforting hand on her shoulder all the while. Once she had cleaned herself up once more, he got up to rinse out the rag and freshen it up in anticipation of the next attack. They kept up this pattern for an hour or so, though by that time there was nothing really being produced—they were just dry heaves. Finally, once she had been snuggled back against his leg for at least an hour without interruption, her arms wrapped around the thigh she was using as a pillow, and her breathing deep and even, he decided they were probably out of the woods.

Gently unwinding her from his leg, he lowered her to the floor and got to his feet. Her clothes needed to be washed. She'd managed to keep them mostly clean, but if nothing else they were practically soaked through with sweat, and he didn't want her to get a chill. And getting rid of the stench of those other men wouldn't be a bad thing either. She'd probably sit him into the middle of next week for this in the morning—but then again, with everything she'd done during the course of the evening, who was she to judge him?

Affecting a detached, businesslike manner as best he could, he peeled the shimmery black top off over her head and tried valiantly not to notice how soft and round and caressable her breasts were within their delicate, black-lace binding as he sponged off her clammy skin with a fresh rag. The jeans came next, with some difficulty—his claws had trouble manipulating the little metal button, and they were _really_ tight. He refrained from removing her underwear, partly because it, at least, had been protected from the men's roving hands, but mostly because even he didn't have the guts to cross that line. Finally, when the scents of horny males and sickness had been sufficiently washed away, he wrapped her up in his discarded haori, tying the sleeves around her waist to secure it, and carried her bridal style back into her bedroom to slip her under the covers.

She stirred slightly as he pulled her comforter up around her shoulders. "Mm…Inu…?" she mumbled, blinking blurrily at him.

"Yeah—it's okay, just get some sleep," he replied gruffly.

She gave a small nod and curled over onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow. He took a seat on the floor beside her, leaning back against the mattress where he could keep an ear out for her while she slept, just in case she got sick again.

"Night, Inuyasha…" she breathed, her voice sluggish and slightly muffled by the pillow, "love you…"

He froze, his eyes widening a fraction. Of course, it wasn't like she meant it. He knew that. She was bombed out of her skull and half asleep—he couldn't possibly take her seriously.

Still, there was something…interesting…about hearing those words escape her lips. It gave him a squishy feeling in the pit of his stomach—like nausea, but in a good way. "Night, Kagome…" he returned distractedly at last—but her only reply was a soft snore.

* * *

Why did it feel like there was a five-hundred-pound boulder sitting on her head, with a one-hundred-and-eighty-five-pound man jumping on it?

So this was what a hangover felt like…

She couldn't remember ever feeling so awful and disgusting in her entire life. It was like someone had scooped out her torso and injected all the excess matter into her skull, so that her head was full to bursting, and her stomach was empty and wobbly as day-old Jell-O. Her eyelids scratched uncomfortably against the dried out contact lenses she'd apparently forgotten to remove as she carefully blinked her eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming through the window.

Suddenly, a pair of intense golden eyes appeared in her line of sight, about five inches from her face. "Ah!" she shouted, rearing back—and immediately regretting it, when a fresh burst of pain lanced through her skull. "Jeez, Inuyasha, don't do that…" she mumbled, cringing and running a hand over her face to try to will the pounding back to its dull throb. With as bad as she was feeling at the moment, she'd rather have the jumping man with the boulder than the spazzed-out hanyou with the attitude, hands down.

"Feh."

When she opened her eyes again he was still staring at her, but this time she was ready for it—and she noticed that there was something odd about the way he was looking at her. He seemed concerned, but more than that, there was something almost…affectionate in his expression. She frowned curiously. "Inuyasha? Is everything okay?"

Alarm crossed his face, but he quickly shrugged it off, turning away with a grunt.

She gave him an odd look, but decided not to press the matter. Her memories of the last night were a bit fuzzy, but she remembered something about ice cream cake and…being upside down? And then of course there was the throwing up, which she was perfectly happy to leave as a vague impression in the shadows—but she also remembered someone being there with her, holding her ponytail and cleaning up after her and acting as a nice, warm human pillow. She was pretty sure it had been him—but really, Inuyasha? The guy complained when she asked for fifteen minutes to take a bath—would he really have been willing to put up with taking care of her while she was falling down drunk? "Were you here all night?" she asked, finally, her voice a nearly unrecognizable croak.

He scowled at her. "'Course. What, you think I'd leave you here to choke on your own puke? If you're not gonna take care of yourself, somebody's got to."

Normally this response would have made her furious, but being angry only seemed to make her head hurt more at the moment—and besides, she could tell he was just covering. The more she thought about it—his gentle hands on her shoulders, handing her damp cloths, stroking her hair—the more she realized just how remarkably tender he had been with her, even when she was in such a disgusting, undignified state. The memory brought a smile to her face.

"What?" he demanded, a mild note of panic in his voice, which only made her smile grow.

"Thank you, for taking care of me. I don't usually drink like that, but I guess things got a little out of hand…"

For some unfathomable reason, this remark seemed to make him absolutely furious. "A little out of hand? A _little_ out of hand? Is that what you call what you did last night?"

She stared at him, nonplussed, trying to figure out what on earth he could be so upset about. "Well, yeah…I mean, we just sort of kept ordering drinks, and I guess I lost track—and I hadn't really eaten much—"

"I'm not talking about the fucking drinks, wench," he snarled darkly.

Now she was really confused. "Then what are you talking about?"

"Like you don't know."

"No, seriously, Inuyasha, I don't know," she insisted, starting to panic a bit. "Did I do something? Is there something I'm not remembering? God, if something horrible happened, then please, tell me what it is…"

"I'm talking about those fucking bastards you were with, Kagome," he finally specified, with the air of a district attorney pinning his quarry with a particularly incriminating bit of evidence.

"Who?"

"You know—those…those men you let touch you. What, did you think I wouldn't be able to smell them? They were all over you, Kagome, fifty or sixty of 'em at least!"

"Oooh…" she breathed, finally catching on. Well, that explained a lot. Hm—now how to explain it to Inuyasha… "Look, Inuyasha, really, it was nothing—"

"Nothing! You let a bunch of sleazebags put their fucking hands in places even Miroku's not idiot enough to try, and you're telling me it was nothing? What else did you do, Kagome? What else means nothing to you?"

"Hey," she said firmly, pushing herself into a sitting position and fixing him with a glare—now he was crossing a line. "I'm not saying last night was my shining hour, but I wouldn't do anything like that—you should know that by now. Yes, my friends took me out to a club—I've never been to one before. They all go out practically every weekend while I'm off hunting jewel shards and nearly getting killed for the thousandth time, so I thought maybe it would be fun to try it, just to see what it would be like to be normal. And yeah, I drank too much—but so what? It's not like I'll ever get the chance again, the way things are going. And yes, I let those strange guys put their hands all over me—but Inuyasha, that's just the way people dance at those kinds of places. It was an experience—it was something new. I wanted to know, just for once, what it would be like to be normal, like my friends—what it would be like to be…wanted. So sue me," she added quickly, not giving him time to dwell on that last statement. "But I absolutely did not sleep with any of those guys, and I can't believe you would honestly think that I would."

He glared at her sullenly in the wake of this explanation, but the spite in his gaze was somewhat undermined by the contrite flattening of his ears. She gave a wry half-smile and softened slightly. "Listen," she began more gently, "I won't say I didn't enjoy it at all—but really, I think it was pretty much a one-time thing. It was fun for a change, but bottom line…it just wasn't really my thing. Besides," she added wryly, "the hangover is totally not worth it."

A reluctant smile twitched at the corner of his lips, and she could see he was having to work harder and harder to keep his stony expression in place. Maybe she felt emboldened by this small reaction, or maybe it was just the hangover talking, but against her better judgment she soon found herself adding truthfully, "Anyway, there's really just one guy I'm interested in hanging around with."

That wiped the hardness from his face, leaving behind only blank surprise, and perhaps something like hope. He was so stunned, he even forgot to hide it from her, like he usually would have. She smiled warmly and reached out to stroke his cheek, her heart racing in astonishment when he turned his face to kiss her palm. When his eyes met hers uncertainly, her smile widened—and he returned it. Then he gently nudged her back down to lie against the pillows once more and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Good," he said quietly, the sunlight from the window reflecting in his silver hair and matching the color of his eyes, "cause you're not getting rid of me anytime soon. Now get some sleep, wench."

The softness of the mattress beneath her seemed to be reaching up with invisible fingers and pulling her down with it, back towards unconsciousness. "Will you stay with me?" she asked sleepily, eyes already drooping shut in deference to the inexorable call of slumber.

"Always," he murmured in reply. The soft brush of his fingertips against her cheek followed her into sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** A couple of fun facts about the title: It's a title I actually thought up ages ago, and have been saving for the right story (I tried to write one specially for it, but it was pretty weak—never finished it). Anyway, obviously it's a reference to the 60s/70s band Three Dog Night ("Joy to the World," "Try a Little Tenderness," you know 'em)—but I also did a little digging to find out where they got the name in the first place, just out of curiosity. Turns out, it came from an article one of the band members read describing a practice used by Australian natives to keep warm on cold nights—apparently, they would sleep in holes in the ground, cuddled up for warmth with wild dogs (dingos). The colder the night, the more dogs they would sleep with—so a really cold night would be a "Three Dog Night." You learn something new every day…

Anyway, I thought that was sort of appropriate for this too, since this story is all about Inuyasha staying with Kagome all night and keeping her comfortable.


	6. Hung Over

**Author's Note:** Firsttweak's most recent drabble contest had a "Hangover" theme—so of course I couldn't pass up a chance to add to this collection (--grin--). This was originally posted on July 30, 2008, and it won first place. Word Count: 300

**Hung-Over**

When Inuyasha awoke, the world was upside-down.

He blinked a couple of times—his head was pounding so hard it felt like his eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets—and frowned, trying to figure out how the ground had ended up where the sky was supposed to be, and why he wasn't falling into the wide, painfully blue expanse that stretched out below him.

There was a jaw-cracking yawn from somewhere to the right—left?—and he turned his head, squinting against the piercing sunlight to lay eyes on an upside-down Kagome.

"Whoa…how are you doing that?" he mumbled, marveling at the way her feet stuck magically to the grass, and her hair fell—albeit messily—around her shoulders as usual, defying gravity.

"That's my line. Have you been up there all night?"

"Up where?"

"In that tree, idiot—what are you doing up there?"

"Uh…" he fumbled, "…sleeping?"

She laughed, breaking off with a wince and placing a hand to her head. "Remind me never to accept another jug of sake from Miroku. My head feels like someone mistook it for a meat tenderizer."

"Feh—serves you right for drinking that stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. I've seen a lot of people hung-over, but I've never seen anyone take it quite so literally before," she smirked.

He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest—but unfortunately this movement was enough to jostle his calves free from where he'd hooked them around one of the branches, and he yelped as he tumbled to the ground in a flailing heap. Kagome burst into laughter, clutching her head, though apparently even the pain wasn't enough to dampen her mirth this time. Inuyasha merely glared back up at her from between his legs. "Shut up…"


End file.
